


Create a Storm With You

by hypnoshatesme



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood, Kissing, Slaughter!Michael, Vast!Gerry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme
Summary: “You’re far from the shore,” the tone was joking.“I’m everywhere.”Michael hummed. “Mhm, we’ve been over that.”He turned towards Gerry. It had been a good while since Michael had seen any sign of him, since the scent of salt and brine had caught in his nose despite him being far from the sea. Gerry looked the same as ever, dark hair and dark coat dancing in the wind, the dim light of the city catching in the ring in his eyebrow, his lip, his ear. The scent of the sea was stronger now than it had been when Michael had picked it up first, had followed it to the roof. Like always. Gerry was never-changing, and Michael grinned.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Create a Storm With You

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this for the entity switch game the @hellyeahgerrymichael blog is playing because the moment I saw that bingo sheet I was possessed by combining two of my favourite things, I guess.

Gerry didn’t turn around when he heard the approaching steps. He recognised them, in all their insignificance. He felt Michael come to a stop next to where he was leaning against the railing of the roof of a hotel, nine storeys, an unknown city all around it, lit windows in nearly every building despite the late hour of the night. The wind was strong, anticipation of a storm in the air, and Gerry caught sight of blond curls being whipped by it out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re far from the shore,” the tone was joking.

“I’m everywhere.”

Michael hummed. “Mhm, we’ve been over that.” 

He turned towards Gerry. It had been a good while since Michael had seen any sign of him, since the scent of salt and brine had caught in his nose despite him being far from the sea. Gerry looked the same as ever, dark hair and dark coat dancing in the wind, the dim light of the city catching in the ring in his eyebrow, his lip, his ear. The scent of the sea was stronger now than it had been when Michael had picked it up first, had followed it to the roof. Like always. Gerry was never-changing, and Michael grinned. 

“Came to visit me?” teasing, though it sounded more like a taunt, a threat, as most things Michael said did. It was an undertone, ever-present, and Gerry’s lips quirked up at hearing it again.

It was all the answer Michael would get, as usual. They had played this little game countless times now and Gerry was still not going to admit to it being anything but coincidence for them to find themselves in the same place once more. And maybe it wasn’t even a lie. He didn’t give it much thought. It didn’t matter.

“You’re far from home,” he said instead, and finally turned his head to look at Michael, radiant as always, even in the washed out dark of the city. You didn’t need to see him properly to _feel_ the energy, something like anticipation of a wave about to crash into a cliff, harsh and violent. It made Gerry’s spine tingle. It was delightful.

Michael flashed him his knife’s edge grin. “A bit of a holiday.”

The tone was a joke with something sharp to it, or maybe it was the flash of bloodlust in his eyes at the word ‘holiday’. There was blood on his jaw, not much, probably overlooked when Michael washed up. Gerry touched his fingers to it, and they came away wet and faintly red. It was fresh and Gerry watched the dim light catch in it as he held up his hand. 

“Having fun?”

"Oh darling, always." He laughed his strangely piercing laugh and Gerry marvelled at how Michael found such joy in feeding his master, in something as small as ending another pointless life. "You?"

The thunder was distant and the lightning faint when it followed, but enough to bathe them in light for the briefest of moments, enough to catch in the blood on Gerry’s fingertips. His eyes didn't look away from it, but there was a grin on his lips when he spoke, "Always."

A short silent settles between them and Michael watched Gerry’s face, the way his eyes looked positively disinterested but didn’t move from the blood on his fingers. Gerry’s eyes had always been indefinable, the depths of the sea in pools of brown or black, maybe blue, sometimes grey, often all.

"Is there enough human of you left to bleed?" Michael suddenly asked, as always voicing whatever came to his mind.

"I never gave it a thought." 

"Would you let me try find out?" Gerry was unsure whether the knife had been in Michael’s hand before, but he was twirling it now, drawing Gerry’s eyes away from the drying drops of blood. 

He met Michael’s eyes, and had Gerry still been human he might have felt a spike of fear. Or considering his history, maybe excitement. Now, he felt amused, grinned because there was such intensity and presence to Michael, such weight in the way he looked at Gerry, curiosity and slaughter in his eyes. Like there was any meaning to them in this moment, like they were more than mere specks of dust in the vastness of the universe. 

"No. It doesn't matter."

Michael’s pouting always looked like a mockery, too much aggression in the harsh curve of his lips. "It matters to me."

Gerry raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why is that?"

Michael considered, knife still dancing between his fingers, hypnotising. Then he shrugged. "It could be fun."

A chuckle like gently rolling waves. "I can think of other fun things to do rather than find out whether I bleed."

The knife stilled and the pout turned into a grin, predatory. "Like what?"

Gerry countered with a playful grin of his own and another gust of wind threw his hair back. "Like a kiss."

Michael had never had to be told twice, and neither did he hold anything back when he closed the distance and brought their lips together with unnecessary ferocity, probably, but he tasted salt water on Gerry’s lips as they met his, and it felt right as Michael fell. Not literally, he knew that by now, but his body didn’t care when the wind was rushing in his ears and his stomach dropped, and he could hear the crashing waves below, fast approaching. 

He wrapped his arms around Gerry, forced himself to not to hold on for dear life as he used to. Gerry’s arms were around his waist, and Michael faintly felt the metal of the railing at his back. He gave it no mind, indulged in the feeling of falling that always came with Gerry’s kisses and kissed him back with vicious ferocity, buried his free hand in Gerry’s hair to pull, and Gerry gasped into the kiss and let Michael’s tongue slip into his mouth, welcomed it with a hum. 

Michael’s kisses were always so intense, so strangely grounding. It was like being forcefully pulled to a stop from drifting in the endless vastness Gerry had embraced as his state of being so long ago. It didn’t matter, not when Michael kissed him like a wave crashing over him, pulling him towards itself, left him breathless and so very aware of the here and now, of the fact that the air was heavy with ozone and the thunder sounded closer, the fact that the sky lit up in front of Gerry’s closed eyelids. He felt the steadily stronger rain on his skin and Michael’s warm body between his own and the metal railing, all that was keeping them from plummeting down, and it all felt so _intense_ , the way Michael’s nails were scraping against his scalp and the way Gerry could feel the hilt of his knife at his back where Michael was holding on to him and the knife at the same time. 

Little truly thrilled Gerry anymore, but Michael was exhilarating, electrifying and all else beside this moment was forgotten, unimportant as everything should be but wasn’t because Michael’s teeth were grazing his lower lip and Gerry felt like he was on fire. 

Suddenly, Michael bit down hard and Gerry’s lip split and he pulled away with a hiss at the sudden pain. They were both breathing heavily as they looked at each other, Gerry surprised, blood welling up where his lip had broken; Michael’s expression one of triumph as he licked Gerry’s blood from his lips.

“You _do_ bleed,” he breathed, and he sounded so very satisfied with himself as his grin only widened.

Gerry had to laugh, and Michael stopped feeling the metal against his back, felt Gerry’s grip loosen around him so he was leaning precariously over the edge of the roof. Michael grabbed Gerry’s shoulder, the grip in his hair tightening. He didn’t look down. He didn’t hear waves below anymore, but the city at night. It made little sound but Michael could feel the wind and rain, could feel the abyss right below him and his heartbeat picked up in fear, anticipation. His expression didn’t waver.

Gerry’s face came closer and Michael wanted to push him back on instinct, didn’t want the balance to tip any further. He knew full well that it wouldn’t, not if Gerry didn’t want it to. 

Gerry’s nose skimmed Michael’s cheekbone and his lips were by Michael’s ear when he spoke, “Shall we find out next what’ll happen if I drop you?”

Michael held very still as he felt Gerry’s breath, a cool ocean breeze, against his ear. The words, however, made him freeze, especially as he felt Gerry’s grip on his waist loosening, felt himself dipping back just a little further. He shifted his grip on Gerry’s shoulder, just enough to be able to bring the blade to Gerry’s jaw. He held it there, didn’t press down enough to break skin but made sure Gerry could feel it. He waited for Gerry to look at his face again, and the grin on Michael’s lips was a lot harsher than before, more threat amidst the playfulness. 

“You’ll bleed more.” 

Gerry held his gaze for what felt like an eternity, lightning illuminating his own too self-satisfied expression. Michael thought he’d like to carve it off. Gerry felt the blade press into his skin, nearly gentle compared to the violence in Michael’s eyes as he stared up at him. It was making Gerry’s spine tingle, his pulse picking up with a no longer familiar sense of danger, of fear, all mixed with the very familiar thrill that usually accompanied their little trysts.

Then Gerry chuckled, and his grip around Michael tightened again as he pulled him back up in one fluid motion, twirled them so Michael was the one standing firmly on the roof while Gerry had the railing at his back. There was shock on Michael’s face as he regained his balance, then relief, but Gerry didn’t get to comment on it because Michael’s lips crashed into his with the next thunder. 

If anything, Michael simply seemed _more_ than he had a moment before. Gerry could feel his strong, quick heartbeat through the front of their shirts where Michael was pressing their bodies together, and Michael’s fingers were twisting into his collar, the knife no longer touching skin, but still close to his throat, and Michael’s lips were hot against his and Gerry let himself indulge, enjoy, and pulled Michael closer. He drank the remaining fear from Michael’s lips, knew Michael was doing the same, and it was pouring by now, but neither of them minded.


End file.
